Shadewood Know your soul gotta know your wealth

He swung his great head to the wolf that threw up a panicked call, the name Cry hitting some sort of reserve in the back of his mind. Whatever. She was annoying. He glared with venom in his toxic jades at the sea held in the glare projected right back at him. He didn't know how long they stood there, him not understanding the words she spat but gathered some inkling of what she meant from her tone.
She didn't like bears for sure.

He let out a breathy sigh, about to start lumbering towards the wolf to find out who the fuck she was but the ebony man slid through the shadows as if appearing from the pockets betwixt the mythical trees here. He snorted softly, clearing his nose of some foreign body he'd inhaled in his slumber but otherwise wasn't worse for wear. He wasn't hungry yet, no. That would come in the following weeks as his body reverted back to normal feeding.
But perhaps he couldn't pass up of finding some leaves. Something to settle him into the spring that was chasing up winters doorstep. 

Again, his gaze was on the pair of wolves and he lumbered towards them now in his easy, sluggish gait. He snorted once more before he reached them and, when he did, extended his pale muzzle to them. 
He expected some reaction from the white marked wolf, perhaps another alarm call or the swing of jaws. 
Either way, he supposed he was too tired to tolerate angsty bullshit right now. He's just woken up after all.